


Open Your Eyes

by ChernaKat



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Depression, Detectives, F/M, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M, Masturbation, Original Female Character - Freeform, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamorous Relationships, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Work In Progress, hank is dead, i like dogs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-07-03 04:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15810915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChernaKat/pseuds/ChernaKat
Summary: Connor has been away from the Detroit Police Department for nearly a year.  He’s lost everything that mattered, since the passing of his partner and husband.  Finally buckling down for work again, will his fiery red-headed coworker be what he needs to come back to life?CURRENTLY ON HIATUS!!!





	1. This Twisted Future Isn't Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my_medicinex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_medicinex/gifts).



> Chapter Synopsis:  
> Connor is a sad birb.  
> First days of work are always so difficult.
> 
> Author Note:  
> The name of this story and its chapters are from - The Aviators: Open Your Eyes
> 
> I adore Hank and Connor but this story idea simply would not leave me be! I hope everyone can enjoy this rollercoster we're about to go on. I haven't written in many years so I apologize for any errors!
> 
> Also much love to my_medicinex for being my beta reader/ editor/ and co writer when I have no idea how to write down the ideas in my head.

_You can do this. Just… open the door_ , Connor says to himself, letting out an unnecessary breath that he’s been holding. Opening the door to the Detroit Police Department, he notices that not much has changed in the year he’s been gone.

Connor collects himself, meeting the gaze of the android standing at the front desk.

 “It’s good to see you Connor,” she says.  Her smile seems empty – her eyes give her away, the slightest hint of sadness in them, as she scans his face.

He nods, before quickly looking away.  _That look again…_ he thinks.  _Everyone keeps looking at me like that._

For the past year, Connor has been met with everyone’s pity. He wishes that they would stop – that they would just ignore him and keep on walking.  None of them seem to realize that all they are doing is making him remember everything he has lost.

And Connor has lost _so_ much.

After spending nearly a decade with his partner, Connor feels as if he has lost some critical coding that he needs to function.  All he feels is the dull ache within himself that has become so familiar.  One year away was never going to heal the pain.

Connor remains silent as he passes her and heads straight to Fowler’s office.  He absentmindedly brushes his thumb over the ring resting on his right ring finger, taking comfort in the familiar smoothness of the metal.  A small comfort, but soothing nonetheless.

It’s been a few weeks since he’s moved it from his left hand; the hand _Hank placed it on_ so many years ago.

He finally reaches the Captain’s office and pushes open the door without knocking. Fowler is expecting him and he’s a friend.

Alone in the office, Connor takes in the man before him: The decade he’s known Jeffery has not treated the man poorly by any means, though his face is sagged with exhaustion. He’s ready to retire.

“Captain,” Connor says in greeting, pushing the glass door closed behind him. “I assume all of the paper work is in order.” He turns, fully facing the older man, “I was hoping to talk about those files I’d like access to, now that I’ve returned.”

“It’s good to have you back Connor,” Fowler sighs, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. “Take a seat.” He waits for Connor to get comfortable before continuing, “Before we get into any of your… special requests, we need to go over the position you’ll have. Now, I know you wanted to return strictly as a Detective, but…” he pauses.

Connor waits for him to continue, remaining the picture of calmness, despite feeling anything but.

Fowler chooses his next words very carefully, “After… after last year, the precinct still needs to fill the position for Lieutenant.  The last guy just wasn’t a good fit.  And, I _know_ it’s not what you’re lookin’ for, but you are the most qualified person for the job.  I think it could even be a nice, fresh start for you.”

Connor stiffens, ready to decline. “I appreciate the offer, Captain, But I…”

Interrupting Connor before he can complete his statement, Fowler interjects, “Look.  I already know what you’re gonna say.  And, I get it okay?  But, I need you to do this for me.  And… I need to know you’ve got your head on straight, what with Hank’s passing.”

Connor’s LED spins yellow, at the mention of his deceased partner.  Taking all of 1.2 seconds, he quickly switches it back to blue.  It’s an accomplishment, really; one he has no pride in.  He has come a far way from the visible flinch of a few months prior. 

_I am getting better…_ he muses, taking one more look at Fowler.  _At hiding it._

A quiet anger fills Connor, as he processes Fowler’s words, trying to maintain the blue glow of his LED.  He replies coldly, “I believe you mean his _murder_.”

Fowler is clearly exasperated, “We don’t know that yet! I know you suspect foul play, but just…”

The older man takes a second, leaning towards Connor more closely.

He continues, “Listen… I know you’re a good detective.  That’s the only reason I am okay with you wanting to snoop through old case files.  Hank trusted you and your talent.  Fuck, I trust you.  But, if you’re going to be here, then I need you to _be here_.”

As he listens intently to each of the Captain’s words, Connor feels the anger continue to bubble inside of himself.  It’s hot… violent.  Of course, it isn’t Fowler’s fault.  He understands that the man is just doing his job; making sure that he isn’t about to let some machine hellbent on vengeance loose on the city.

At this point, Fowler is in full Detective-mode.  His eyes are locked on Connor, as he tries to read his face; trying to get a sense of his emotions.  He continues, “I can’t just let you spend all of your time buried in old case files.  Hell, there isn’t even a file on Hank’s death, Connor.  You’ll need to do some real police work, for this arrangement to run smoothly.”

Connor knows this conversation isn’t easy for the older man.  He watches as Fowler leans back into his chair, trying to gauge his reaction. 

He can tell that the Captain is trying to read him, while simultaneously taking the opportunity to collect himself.

Pragmatic, despite his anger, Connor is certain he will be able to do his job _and_ find Hank’s killer.  Besides, he didn’t come all this way, just to be sent packing.  He knows he can remain focused on the Precinct’s needs, as well as his own.

_Probably_ , he thinks, almost trying to reassure himself of his abilities.

Collecting his thoughts, before Fowler can latch onto his momentary uncertainty, Connor simply says, “Go on…”

Fowler sighs and says, “I’m only going to be here for another six months.  After that, I’ll be happily retired.  But, you… You’ll be taking orders from someone else.  So, until then,” he places both of his hands on the desk in front of him, avoiding eye contact, “I can give you access to whatever you need, for you to be able to do this investigation in your _free time_.”

He moves one hand to a stack of files on the desk and taps a finger on the manila folders, for emphasis, “But I need you to be doing real police work, Connor. I need you handling _existing cases._ ”

Connor’s eyes narrow as he digests Fowler’s offer.  He knows it wasn’t logical to think he could return to the precinct and rummage through his dead husband’s personal files, trying to find the lead he needs to justify his theory about Hank’s death.  He knows that he is alone is wanting to pursue it as a murder case; that the Captain would be perfectly fine if he never found any lead.  Everyone just wants to look at it as nothing more than another grizzled Lieutenant betrayed by his broken, battered body. 

He scoffs, thinking to himself, _Heart attack? Of course, everyone’s willing to believe that.  The stress of this place… his age… Nobody wants to deal with an investigation on one of their own._

Connor knows he has been quiet long enough for it to be an uncomfortable silence, so he closes his eyes and forms his reply, “Alright.”  Short, simple.  It is easier to placate Fowler; to give the Captain what he wants.  Whatever will let him get started on his personal investigation sooner.

He runs his thumb over his wedding band, again.  “I’ll work as acting Lieutenant. For now,” he adds.

Pivoting on his heel, Connor heads towards the door; the conversation is over.  That is, until a thought occurs to him.  He turns his gaze back to the Captain, as his hand touches the door-handle.  He states, “I’ll be needing just one more thing, Captain.”

 “Yeah?” Fowler raises his eyebrows quizzically, trying to imagine what the android possibly wants.  Especially, since he was just given unregulated access to the entirety of the precinct’s archives.

A small smile forms on the edge of Connors lips as he says, “I’ll be taking his desk.”

The Captain’s eyes soften, knowingly.  He nods at Connor, silently granting his request. 

Connor responds by leaving the office, closing the door behind him.

As he enters the bullpen, he heads to his familiar spot on the floor – the adjoined desks he and Hank shared are like a beacon.

He notices the light reflecting off a nameplate on the empty desk:

_LT. ANDERSON_

A sad smile crinkles Connor’s features, as he brushes his fingers over the copper plating.  He feels each groove in the etched marking of his partner’s name.  Ironically, there’s no need to replace the plate.  After all, Hank had given Connor his last name 5 years ago, when they’d married.

And, of course, there was the matter of his new promotion: Lieutenant.

_It can stay_ , Connor decides. He takes a small comfort in knowing that nobody has disturbed this last reminder of his partner.  That it had sat in the bullpen; familiar, warm and constant.

Looking across his new desk, Connor absorbs the plethora of items littering his old seat.

_Not surprising,_ he thinks.  The desk is completely covered in somebody’s personal effects.  It made sense; after a year of bereavement time, it was only natural for a new Detective to fill his spot.  While it made him feel slightly sentimental, he knows he did the right thing.  He had needed a break from everything that had reminded him of Hank; time to deal with his grief.

But, life goes on.

_At least_ , _for most people_ , he ponders, reminiscing on how stuck he had felt these past few months.

 

* * *

 

Thinking back, it had been Markus who had first attempted to get him back on course.

He had suggested that Connor try his hand at politics, like himself.  He sold it as something “new and different” for Connor to try; something that would still allow him to utilize his knowledge of Law.

Not entirely sure what else to do – and wanting to keep his friends from worrying – Connor had agreed.  He had completely immersed himself in the plights of his people, even deciding to stay in Carl’s mansion with Markus, Simon and North.  Besides, it hadn’t been as if the small house he and Hank had shared felt like home.  Not anymore.

After years of living with the Lieutenant and their dogs – the late Sumo and two-year-old Fresco -- being surrounded by so many androids was startlingly different.  But, the change also brought a sense of relief.  The constant hubbub of the other three androids meant there was rarely a chance for his sensors to be bombarded with any reminder of the life he had lost.

Any pang of sorrow he’d felt – any yearning for his lost lieutenant – had been drowned out by his fellow androids’ presence.

When they were home, that was.

It quickly became clear to Connor how deafening their absence could be; the loneliness was suffocating.

With Markus traveling across the country to spread the message of Android Rights, North heading an ethics committee for android and human sex-workers, and Simon working in partnership with Cyberlife to produce android components, Connor had been frequently left alone.  Occasionally, Josh would float by to visit, but not often enough.  His work with abandoned android children sent him far and wide.

The hardest part, though, had been watching the more intimate moments that his companions shared.

Of course, they had all tried to be considerate.  For the first month, at least, they had mostly kept their hands to themselves.  But, the threesome had spent nearly a decade under one roof.  They were used to sharing secrets, their lives – each other.

But, some habits had been hard to break; soft smiles and stolen touches.

Connor could feel the frisson that passed between his roommates.  However, he knew, there simply wasn’t anything that could be done for it.  Nor had it been fair to expect them to stop.  It was only that it stung – the sight of Simon pulling in Markus for a tender peck on the lips or Markus wrapping his arms around North’s waist. 

Connor had pined for the feel of Hank’s embrace.

In an effort to quell the feelings of longing, Connor would often find himself wandering the streets of Detroit with Fresco, the dog’s large, lumbering form leading the way.  A husky-Bernard mix, Fresco was full of energy.  Having saved him from a shelter two years ago, Fresco had been a gift for Hank on their anniversary.  Connor had sadly noticed that even Fresco had taken to occasionally sniffing around for his lost companion.

Connor could empathize with his canine friend – the first month after losing Hank had been a living Hell.  Between handling the funeral and feeling like a stranger in his own home, he felt like a ghost – an entity just existing among the living. 

The turning point had been when Markus discovered the two resting – Connor in stasis – on top of Hank’s grave.

Connor couldn’t help it.  He found it difficult to “sleep” without his partner beside him.

That was when Markus had made his suggestion.  Ever the wise friend, Markus knew that the distraction would aide Connor with his healing.

And, it did distract him. It had given him something else to focus on, until he had turned to his current obsession.

 

* * *

 

About ten months after Hank’s passing, Connor had found himself analyzing that fateful day, again.  He wasn’t sure what brought him back to that moment – the moment the world had been torn out from under him – but, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something very _off_ about Hank’s death.

Hank had only been 62 years old, when he died. True, he hadn’t lived the healthiest of lives, with a stressful job, limited exercise and copious amounts of alcohol. But, that had all changed after they had determined the true nature of their relationship.

Wanting to spend as much of his life as possible with Connor had motivated Hank to clean up his diet, exercise more – even go and see doctors – all in hopes of buying more time.  He had gone so far as to let Connor cut the booze out completely (though, that had been a bit of a traumatic event).

He even had a physical shortly before he passed away, _for fucks sake_.

All of this had led Connor down the train of thought that _none of it_ made any sense…. Not after all the changes they had made together.

Unfortunately, as an android, Connor had a perfect memory; able to recall every detail of that day.

Connor had felt there was something wrong the moment he’d walked inside the house.  He had come home to see Hank, lying lifelessly on the sofa.  Fresco had been whining, sniffing Hank’s hand, beside the couch. 

For a moment, he had been frozen – a chill running up his carbon-alloy spine. 

_No,_ he panicked, _Not yet!_

The message filled his HUD with red:

_Lieutenant Hank Anderson_

_Partner_

_Deceased_

Nothing could compare to the shock than ran through him that day. Not even becoming Deviant - being thrust into the world of Human emotions and impulses - could hold a candle to seeing the cold, still body of the one person in this world who meant the most to him.

Hank _was_ Connors humanity.

Connor had first experienced personal loss when Sumo had passed away.  Hank had been by his side, helping him to navigate that grief.  _This_ though? This had found Connor completely and utterly _alone._

No one understood how he felt.

Markus had tried to empathize. And yes – Markus had lost Carl, essentially his father, shortly after the revolution. But losing a father wasn’t the same as losing your partner, your husband… your _lover._

Hank was the person Connor had sworn to protect, love and cherish with every ounce of his being.  He had vowed to keep that oath until the day came when he was no longer able.

Connor couldn’t help but feel that somehow, he had failed Hank. That he hadn’t protected him.

That he had lost the love of his life and it had been nobody’s fault, but his own.

He had been left to sort out his grief alone; no guide in these muddied waters. Connor had found that pouring himself into something completely helped to numb the pain. Being confronted with questions and situations he had solutions for was relaxing, compared to the irritation of knowing he had no answers for Hank’s death. For his _murder_.

Connor knew that his human didn’t just “lay down and die” as he had been told by the coroner. Everyone else just seemed to accept it, but Connor knew that it was wrong. Dead _fucking_ wrong.

He had tried to accept Hank’s death. Everyone reassuring him that sometimes bad things just happen to good people; that in turn, those good people sometimes leave us too soon. 

But there was _something_ in the way his lover had been lying on the couch that day. Something that just felt out of place. Come Hell or high water, Connor was going find out what it was.

Sorting through his memories, Connor recalled a conversation he had with Markus, right before he had forwarded his intention to return to the DPD.

He remembered the look on Markus’ face – eyes regarding him with that same pity Connor was growing to abhor.

_“Connor,” Markus had said, “We’ve been over this. Humans are not like us. Sometimes, they simply… pass away. They are fragile. I can’t sit by and watch you obsess over something that… just isn’t there.”_

_“You’re wrong, Markus!” Connor had responded, “Something IS there, and I will find out what.” His LED flashing yellow as he regarded Markus’ expression. They’d had this talk before._

_It wasn’t that Connor couldn’t understand Markus’ concern, he could even appreciate it, but he knew Markus simply didn’t understand. How could he? The people he loved, Simon and North were androids. His close friend Josh was an android._

_Despite having Carl, all Markus really knew anymore was Android. Connor had lived his entire Deviant life surrounded by humans – by the side of a human. If he had one, Connor would say he was following his gut. His intuition – but, it wasn’t intuition. Connor was a precision machine, no matter how much of a human he became, when you got down to simple facts. And, Connor always achieved his mission._

_“Connor…” Markus sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, exasperated. He opened his mouth to address him but was never given the chance._

_“No. Enough. We’ve had this conversation too many times. You will not change my mind, Markus. I understand that you are concerned for me, but I promise you that this is not denial. This is not me obsessing, simply because of a refusal to accept Ha—him, being gone.” Connor clenches his hands at his own words._

_He continued, “I can’t explain to you what is that I sense, but something just isn’t right. I’ve analyzed the scene a thousand times, Markus. I’ve recreated every possible scenario and I am telling you that something simply doesn’t add up. Look – I just need to do this. If… If something happened to North or Simon and you suspected foul play, wouldn’t you do everything in your power to find out what it was? And, why? Even if nobody believed you?” Connor watched as Markus visibly twitched at the mention of something happening to kin._

_He knew it wasn’t fair to plant that thought in Markus’ head, but it was the only logical response he had left to try and make his friend understand where he was coming from._

_Defeated, Markus replied, “Alright, Connor… I don’t like it, nor do I think it is a very good idea, but I understand. I won’t stop you from pursing this. But, please remember that we are all here for you if you need to come back. North will have my head on a platter, if she finds out that I let you leave so easily.”_

_Connor watched him as Markus stood with a heavy sigh, slowly placing his hand on Connor’s shoulder, “Take care of yourself. Don’t be a stranger… We all worry about you.”_

_He nodded as Markus lowered his hand and walked through the studio doors, to paint his own emotions the way Carl had taught him to. Markus would, undoubtably, seek comfort from Simon, who was already waiting inside for him._

_Everyone has their own ways of processing their feelings. Connor needed to be true to his._

_He turned back to the paperwork on the dining room table that he had been working on.  It was all the documentation needed for his reinstatement at the DPD.  Now, it was only a matter of time before he’d catch whoever was responsible for taking everything away from him._

 

* * *

 

A firm hand squeezes Connor’s shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts.  The grip is strong; familiar.

 “Nine,” Connor greets his brother, finding his bearings.  The larger android is an RK900.  Technically, Connor was Nine’s predecessor.  However, Nine could overtake him instantly in nearly every aspect.  His increased size, durability and speed far surpassed Connor’s own.  Perhaps, he was even more intelligent.

Connor knows that he will always be just a little more human, though.  That is, after all, what he was built to be.  He was a bridge, built by Cyberlife, to close the gap between androids and humans.  His entire being was created to smoothly integrate into society – to make people feel comfortable taking direction from him.

“Welcome back,” Nine says fondly, loud enough for only Connor to hear.  “I hear you’re going to be our new Lieutenant.  Not surprising… I think they’ve been waiting for you to come back and take the spot.”

He absentmindedly runs a few fingers over the nameplate on Connor’s desk.

Connor smirks and replies, “Yeah. I had hoped that this would be an easy return. Fowler seems to have other ideas. For now, it’s just simpler to accept it and move on, than it is to argue a moot point. I have other things that I would rather devote my full attention to, though.”

Nine only nods his head once, in understanding.  After nearly a decade, the two have come to almost perfectly understand one another, despite their differences.

Because of their strong bond, Connor had attempted staying with Nine and Gavin in the beginning.  However, that arrangement didn’t last very long.  Within two days, Connor had found himself back to loitering around Hank’s gravesite.

If watching the quiet companionship that Markus shared with the others was enough to send a pang of loneliness through him, seeing the pure, visceral _need_ that would pass between Gavin and Nine was a direct assault on his system.

He’d be overtaken, drowning in a flood of memories of passionate nights, of rough, calloused hands, soft hair from Hank’s beard nuzzling into his neck – of a thousand small details that sent Connor into a desperate hunger for something he could no longer have. So many memories; In Connor’s experience, it couldn’t be said that older men didn’t have stamina.

Even if he couldn’t live with Nine, he knew that he could confide in him.

Because of this, Nine was the first person that Connor chose to share his suspicions with. He had figured that with Nine’s newer, more state-of-the-art technology, he would be able to find the missing link.

Unfortunately, that had not been the case; despite this, Nine never stopped supporting Connor’s choice to keep looking for answers. Having almost lost Gavin at one point, Nine was the closest to ever understanding Connor’s feelings.

The sound of Nine’s voice pulls Connor from his thoughts.

“Understandable. If you need me, ask. I am sure Gavin would extend his assistance, as well,” Nine says, as both androids’ eyes wandered across the bullpen to where the detective sat.  Gavin’s own eyes were locked onto the two androids as their gaze met his own.

Connor nods over to the senior detective, a greeting which is returned with a sarcastic scoff and Gavin flipping the now-smirking rk800 the bird, as he directs his attention back towards his terminal.

The two of them had formed a strong - albeit strange - bond over the years.

_Our strange little bromance,_ Connor muses, recalling what he had told Gavin the night the two men had scuffled in the evidence room. _Still holding a grudge, after all these years,_ Connor smirks, recalling how the detective had wound up unconscious on the cold tile floor.

Nine turns his attention back towards Connor.

If it were possible, Connor would say that Nine looked almost… uncomfortable. “I didn’t just come over to welcome you back, though,” Nine begins. “The Captain thought you would take this particular… development… more comfortably, coming from family.”

 “What ‘New development’ are you talking about, Nine?” Connor asks, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. He follows Nine’s eyes as they sweep over Connor’s new desk and settled on his old one.

“That new development,” Nine answers. “The human occupying your old desk.”

Connor remains perfectly still for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing further, “It’s fine, Nine. I intend to stay here,” he lays his hand down on top of the white aluminum desktop, “at Hank’s old desk.”

“No. You are not understanding, Connor,” Nine retorts. “That human – Detective Erikson – is going to be your new partner.”

A sudden shock sends spasms through all of Connor’s sensors.

_Erik – Ander- Erikson_

_Detective Anderson_

His otherwise stable software has an involuntary glitch, the name sounds so similar. He feels… dizzy… like his world has turned onto its side.

He can barely understand Nine as he continues, “Here she is, now. I believe the two of you will compliment each other’s abilities rather well. Gavin and I have worked with her on two cases thus far.” He tilts his head towards the precinct’s entrance, just as a young woman walks through.

She’s heading over towards the desk – her desk – head buried in her cell phone screen.

“Nine!” a warm smile forms on her face, as she reaches the two androids. “Always pleasant to see you looming over my desk.”

Nine replies, “Detective, I’d like to introduce you to my brother, our new Lieutenant and your new partner… Connor Anderson.”

Detective Erikson sets her phone on her desk and turns her gaze upwards towards Connor, “New Lieutenant, huh? Pleasure to meet you. Names’ Katerina Erikson.” She almost sounds pleased to be paired up with the only other android in the room, aside from Nine.

_Erik – Ander – Erikson_

_Detective Anderson_

Connor feels the glitch again but forces himself to look at his new partner.

His eyes take in a veil of fiery red hair that surrounds her soft, pale face.  He tries to meet her gaze and his world – which has already been thrown on its side – goes completely off its axis.

Those eyes – he’s stared into eyes like that before, gotten lost in their depths. His thirium pump stutters.

_Crystal blue._ Not the same steel blue as his brother’s.

_More familiar._

Connor’s no longer present. Gone are the walls of the precinct and he’s back in Jimmy’s Bar, watching a grizzled older man with unkempt silver hair nursing a whiskey, _“Hi. I’m Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife.”_

 

~*~

 


	2. I'm Going to Make You Realize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor learns how to "break the ice" with his new coworker.  
> Chris is a Woo-girl.  
> Dancing is hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to my_medicinex for being my beta reader/ editor.

Connor is brought back to reality by the firm grip of Nine squeezing his shoulder.

Katerina’s voice breaks the awkward silence, “Uhhh, hey. I’m… the human… sent by the DPD to assist you?”  She looks uncertain, confused by Connor’s statement.

_What?_ Connor shakes his head, LED blinking yellow.  He’s shocked that he had spoken the words aloud.

Nine tenses up slightly, thrown off by the silence. 

Gavin’s voice travels across the bullpen, “Can Nine – the awkwardly large android who was sent from my apartment – please return to his desk?”

The mood of the precinct immediately lightens as everyone’s eyes land on Nine, in their amusement.

“I… need to go take care of something,” Nine’s hand drops from where it was resting on Connor’s shoulder. He continues, “Please try to enjoy the rest of your first day back.”  And with that, the surprisingly agile android is briskly crossing the room, before stopping abruptly at Gavin’s desk.

Connor notices as Nine leans down and whispers something into Gavin’s ear.  He can already guess that the conversation probably included the threat of some light bondage, by the smirk it left on the older man’s face.

However, his attention is quickly diverted from Nine and Gavin, as a soft chuckle draws his gaze back to Katerina.  The woman is laughing, head bobbing, while she gets comfortable in her seat, “Those guys, hah!”

Connor settles into his own seat, eager to get through whatever the Captain has required him to complete, thanks to his new position.  Once he’s done with that, he can focus on _more important_ things.  His synthetic skin peels back, revealing the stark white chassis underneath, as he lifts his hand to interface with the terminal.  Before he can get started, his partner’s voice interrupts him.

“So, I’m just gonna say it: I’m excited and nervous as hell to be partnered with a Lieutenant.  I mean… my first _official_ partner as a Detective and it’s someone so high-ranking.  That’s something to right home about, yeah?” She lets a soft smile form, as she rearranges a few files on her desk. 

Connor can feel her crystal blue gaze peer into him, as she looks up.

“By the way,” she says, “Nobody really calls me Katerina… except my mother.  Please, just call me Kat.”

Connor forces his eyes to remain locked onto his terminal, as he finally completes the pairing with the machine.  He’s determined to avoid those blue eyes. Answering her quietly, he simply states, “I’ll keep that in mind”, before continuing to scan through the files.

As they work, a content silence falls upon the precinct.  Everyone is buried in case files and settled into their routines.  It stays like this for a while, the morning slowly giving way to early afternoon.  The noise picks up, as more of the beat cops trickle into the building. 

Connor stretches, an unnecessary movement ingrained in his software, something to mimic the humans around him.  He rests for a moment, appreciative to be back.  He has always enjoyed these early shifts at the DPD.  They give him time to be alone with his thoughts.

Today, though, the quiet allowed him to focus his processors full attention on the information currently lighting up his terminal screen.  He was slowly picking apart every last detail of one of Hank’s last cases, searching for anything that appears out of place. 

Before he can find anything, Kat is looking at him again – expectantly.  She almost mumbles, “I asked… What you thought about it, Lieutenant Anderson.” She has one eye brow raised, framing her sparkling eye.

He feels his thirium pump squeezing painfully in his core; he had read the words a million times on his screen, but hearing them spoken was jarring. _Lieutenant Anderson._

Connor’s own brows furrow, as his thumb finds the safe, familiar smoothness of his wedding band, “Connor.  Just call me Connor.”

He watches her, studying her surprised reaction.  There is a part of him that hopes he doesn’t come off as being abrasive towards his new partner.  Pragmatism was Nine’s specialty, not his.  No, Connor knows he was made to seamlessly meld into society.  He has always been kind – if even to a fault – as other’s often reminded him.

Kat clears her throat, nodding her head, “Okay… Connor.”  Her tone is soft.  It is a gentle agreement, without any hidden questions.  Connor is grateful for that.  He knows eventually the questions will come  - the ones about Hank – but, he isn’t ready to answer.  Not yet.

Before she can repeat the question Connor missed, Kat is cut off by a booming voice in the bullpen.

“There you are! I was starting to worry about ‘Mister-Always-On-Time’, hah!” Officer Tina Chen leans back in her chair, smiling brightly, as she watches her partner Chris Miller enter the precinct.  He reaches his desk and slumps into his chair with a heavy sigh.

Connor watches as Tina moves and perches herself on the edge of Chris’ desk.  He hears her say, “Alright… You’re late _and_ quiet.  What’s up, Miller?”

Chris tiredly runs one of his hands over his face, trying to wake up, “Cut me some slack.  I’m just trying to enjoy whatever little time I have left to sleep in, before I have to get used to running on fumes, again.”

For someone claiming to have “slept in”, Chris looked like he was two seconds away from passing out in his chair.

Soon, Connor isn’t alone in his observation of the other two officers.  Kat’s attention also seems fully devoted to the scene unfolding before them.  She turns her chair, ever so slightly, to get a better view.

Together, they watch as Tina raises an eyebrow in confusion.  She asks Chris, “What? Did you get the Missus a puppy or something?”

“A puppy is something I could handle,” Chris manages to laugh and sigh at the same time.  He continues, “No, it seems that in celebrating our anniversary… we may have… gotten a little too carried away.  We weren’t as _careful_ as we should have been and now my family is growing again.”

Connor can’t help it as his eyebrows lift in surprise. He involuntarily edges closer in his seat.

Tina looks stunned.  She shifts her legs, fidgeting.  Finally, the words find her, “So… is this a _good_ thing? I’ll be honest, I’m not sure if I am supposed to be congratulating you or buying you a drink, dude.”

“Mmm… how about both? Though, drinking is kind of what got me here in the first place,” Chris finally cracks a smile, looking up at Chen.  He continues, sincerely, “No, we’re happy.  Just a little shocked and unprepared.  We thought we were done with changing diapers, ya’ know?”

Tina throws back her head in laughter, nearly sliding off of Chris’ desk.  She collects herself enough to say, “I’ll give you pass for today, then.  But, seriously! Congrats, Miller.  Guess this means we’re all getting our coffee and donuts in the morning again, eh?”

Kat gives herself away, “Coffee and donuts, eh Chris? Why don’t we get that now?”

Breaking into a boisterous laugh, again, Tina manages an explanation, “Because, he uses it as an excuse to rush out of the house early enough to sneak a nap in the locker rooms! He used to just come in without anything, ‘til one day his wife came in to visit and asked us how we’d all been enjoying our treats.”  She pauses, leaning closer to Chris, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this guy looked scared shitless before that day.”

At this point, most of the surrounding officers and detectives are joining in the banter; they had been witness to Mrs. Miller’s wrath that day.  The office is filled with chuckles and lighthearted jokes.

“Okay, okay… yeah, yeah.  Laugh it up.  I didn’t hear anyone complaining or ponying up cash, once I started bringing in breakfast!  Shame on all of you guys,” Chris’ tone is jovial, dimples forming from his grin.

_I’ve missed this,_ Connor thinks to himself, as he watches the antics of the humans around him.

He did miss it; he missed feeling as if he were a part of a family.  Having spent most of the past year with androids, he had all but forgotten the little quirks and nuances that came from human company.  It wasn’t that his android community didn’t have their own antics, but there was something different about the companionship of flesh-and-blood humans.

Humans can’t interface, so understanding one another isn’t as simple as an instantaneous transfer of information.  Or, for that matter, a silent conversation in each other’s heads.  No, they rely on the subtleties of body language, tone and even touch.  Humans can hide their true thoughts and intentions, nearly perfectly, except for these ‘tells’.   The ones that Connor was trained to see.  To make up for their lack of these abilities, humans were spirited, and he could nearly feel the electricity in the air, around them.

Connor has always preferred the constant hum of sound and energy that accompanies people, as opposed to the clinical silence that usually falls upon a group of androids.  It had just taken him some time to remember how stark the difference was.

“I was starting to think you were as stoic as Nine,” Kat’s voice pulls his attention towards her.  She continues, “I hadn’t seen you smile yet.  It’s a good look on you.  You should do it more often.”

He hadn’t realized he had smiled, but it doesn’t necessarily surprise him.  The mood in the precinct was infectious.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Detective,” Connor states, smile gone, as he settles back into his work.

Mentioning something about going to grab lunch, Kat just rolls her eyes and heads off towards the breakroom.

Staring at her desk, Connor’s LED spins slowly for a moment – teetering between blue and yellow – as he collects his thoughts.  He isn’t trying to avoid the young Detective, but he has more pressing things to focus on than small-talk. 

A little while later, Kat reappears with a brown paper bag.  Promptly sitting down at her desk, she begins to pull out it’s contents.  After rummaging about, she pulls out a rather robust sandwich and leans back in her chair.  Her shoes click against the top of her desk as she rests her feet, crossing her ankles to relax.  Taking a bite of her lunch, she takes out her phone and scrolls through the screen.

Connor studies her for a minute, not quite sure what exactly is happening.  Kat looks comfortable, but it feels… staged, almost.  He wonders if he’s getting the “cold shoulder” in response to his own closed-off attitude.

The answer comes soon enough, when a chime emits from his terminal.  It’s a new e-mail.

Opening it, Connor quickly notices that the sender is sitting directly across from him.  He smirks as he reads the header: “10 Ways to Break the Ice With a New Coworker!”

Turning towards his partner, Connor notes the hint of a smile forming at the corner of her lips.  Her attention, however, is geared towards the small screen before her.

Nonchalantly, he adjusts some files on his desk and says, “You know, if you were trying to be stealthy, I might suggest not adding your signature to your emails, in the future.”  He taps some papers against the desk, straightening them, for added emphasis.

“Oh, please.  Subtlety has never been my thing.  Besides, it worked, didn’t it? You looked away from your terminal,” she gloats, giving him a passing glance over the top of her phone.

A small scoff escapes Connor as he nods his head once, in agreement, “Listen. I apologize if I’ve seemed cold.  There has just been so much to process, today.  Could I… maybe grab you a coffee? As a peace offering?” He tilts his head back towards the breakroom, where a pot of strong, black grounds was brewing.

“Offering me coffee? Hah! You _did_ read my email,” her smile spreads across her face, widening into a bright, cheery grin.  She continues, “I suppose that’ll be good for now… Thanks, _Connor_.” Her expression is soft and sweet.

“You’re welcome,” Connor replies as he slides his chair back and starts on his way towards the breakroom.  The small walk is a welcome sojourn from his journey into the past, courtesy of Hank’s old files.  While he knows he doesn’t technically need to rest, being a state-of-the-art machine, Connor can’t deny that stepping back for a moment might help him in the long-run.

Once in the breakroom, the smell of warm java fills his sensors.  The coffeemaker beeps, signaling the pot is ready.  Connor quickly fills a mug for Kat and heads back towards his desk.

On his way, he is cut off by Nine.  His brother’s substantial figure completely blocks his path.

“Nine,” Connor greets him, “is there something you needed?”

Nine’s eyes dart to the ceramic mug in Connor’s hand, observing every detail, as he is wont to do with his surroundings.  Blinking once, he returns his gaze to Connor, “Yes, actually.  Gavin and I conversed about possible activities for this evening – to celebrate your homecoming – and wanted to know if you would like to join us for dinner.  I believe it would be beneficial for you to socialize amongst the others, to aide you with integrating yourself into the precinct again.”

Connor’s body tenses at the suggestion, barely noticeable to the naked-eye, but not invisible to Nine.

“I think I’ll pass for this evening, Nine.  I need to get home to take care of Fresco and download some case files to review later,” Connor shrugs.  He honestly just isn’t sure that he’s ready for something like that, having not been out with a group of friends since before Hank’s passing.

His brother watches him more intently, eyebrow raised in impatience, “What if it were just us three? Would that be more tolerable?”

Connor shakes his head rapidly, at the suggestion.  He knows what it is like to be the third-wheel to Reed and Nine, “I’ll be fine.  But, you should go out and try to have a nice evening.”

Nine’s expression is steely, now; the look of sheer determination.  Connor is all too familiar with it and he braces for what happens next.

“Very well,” Nine states as he proceeds to turn his impressive form towards the rest of the bullpen.  Before anyone fully understands what is happening, Nine’s voice booms out, “Good news!  Our new Lieutenant – my dearest brother, Connor Anderson – has offered to take us all out for drinks this evening.  He wants to celebrate his first day back, with the first round on him!”

The precinct fills with cheers of approval and scattered applause.  As for Nine, he has a devilish grin on his face, as he watches their peers rush to thank Connor.  Chris seems especially enthusiastic about the suggestion, shooting finger-guns in Connor’s direction. 

Connor notices and awkwardly fires one back at him with his free hand, _The news that his wife is expecting has certainly rattled Officer Miller._

Nine doesn’t even bother turning back around to Connor.  His LED spins slowly as he sends a message to the rk800, “Let the record show that I did try a much subtler course of action, first.  But, sometimes you can be stubborn.”

_So much for a quiet first day back,_ Connor muses, as he rushes to give Kat her coffee, before it gets cold.

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, Connor is settled into the driver’s seat of the Oldsmobile that Hank had left behind. He runs one hand over the soft, aged leather.  The smallest pang of longing tugs at his thirium pump.

Shaking off the feeling, he reaches over to where his phone rests in its holder and gently places two fingers on the screen, to interface.

He sends a message to Markus:

**I’ll be home later than originally planned.  It seems Nine had made plans to celebrate my first day back.**

The reply is quick to arrive, as Markus’ voice fills the vehicle, “You shouldn’t send texts and drive, Connor.  But, please enjoy yourself! You deserve a nice distraction.  And, don’t worry about Fresco.  Simon and I will see to it that he gets dinner and a nice evening walk.”

Connor smiles, “Thank you.  I will give it my best go. I’ll fill you both in later, Markus.”  The call ends.

Driving along, Connor feels much more relaxed now.  The small boost of support from his friend has helped.  Sometimes Markus seems to know what ne heeds, before he even has the chance to ask.

Both hands back on the steering wheel, Connor listens to the Oldsmobile humming quietly as he continues towards his destination.  He could have replaced it with a self-driving model, but over the years he has gained an appreciation for driving manually, from Hank.  His husband had always hated it when they had to use an automated vehicle for work.  The older man’s stubbornness had dug a decently-sized hole into their funds over the course of their relationship; Hank’s “baby” had finally refused to turn over one day, and they had to decide whether they were going to upgrade to a new car or pour their time and resources into restoring the Olds’.  Obviously, Hank had opted to hold onto his giant, metal beast, but looking back Connor was grateful for that decision.  He had formed a bond with the old girl, over the years.

Looking around, Connor spots the bar that Nine had told him to go to, before leaving the precinct.  He pulls up to the on-street parking and places the car in park, turning it off.  Closing the door behind him and locking it, he turns to face the building.

Bright pink neon lights garishly flash the word ‘Elixr’.  It is one of the few places that has started selling the new Thirium-laced drink that allows androids to feel intoxicated.  Apparently, Gavin and Nine had been here, before.  Nine stressed that it was “friendly” for both humans and androids alike.  Preparing to enter, Connor takes a moment to reconcile the twinge of guilt he feels; Hank had worked long and hard to remain sober for Connor and he can’t help but feel it would be a small betrayal for him to try any of the new drink.

Swallowing his doubts, Connor pockets his phone and keys, before pushing open the door to the entrance and allowing it to swing shut behind him.

Scanning the room to find his companions, he spots them chatting one another up at the bar.  Most of them had carpooled or grabbed taxis together.

Gavin is already well into his second drink, the emptied glass of the first one resting on the lacquered wood of the bar’s countertop.  Nine is hovering close to his human partner, until he is walking casually towards Connor, “Brother.  I’m pleased you decided to show up. I’ve already started a tab for you.”

Connor chuckles, “Please.  You would have either tracked me down and dragged me here or made me suffer tomorrow, if I hadn’t shown up.  I’m not impractical, Nine.  I’d rather take my chances here, than risk your judgement.”  He tosses a small smile up for Nine, showing him that he’s trying to be a good sport about the situation.

While Connor can admit he’s picked up some of Hank’s quirks over the past decade, the same could be said about Nine with Gavin’s.  While Nine is firm and reserved most of the time, he has become increasingly more likely to banter with his peers and rile them up.  Respectful enough to not push too many boundaries, he certainly does enjoy getting a reaction out of people.

Nine seems satisfied with Connor’s response and goes to stand next to Gavin.  As he walks, he sends Connor a message: “It would seem you have been spared my ‘judgement’ for another day.”

Following closely behind, Connor mumbles happily to himself, “Small victories.”

Kat slides off her barstool and approaches the two androids, drink in hand, “So, are either of you going to try that new Thirium cocktail? Or, are you just planning on sitting here and watching us humans make fools of ourselves?” She grins and takes a sip of her rum and Coke.

“Oh, but yes; I will be watching _this_ human _very_ closely,” Nine places a firm hand on Gavin’s arm, a sly smile forming on his face.  “I indulged him once, trying the new drink, dancing… But, I’d much rather prefer doing so in the comfort of our home.” His eyes grow dark and ravenous, as they linger on Gavin’s lips.

Gavin scoffs, “Right, ‘cause I need a fuckin’ baby-sitter?” His eyes meet Nine’s, defiant and challenging.  He nurses his scotch, soaking in the intense hunger in his android’s expression.  Nine raises an eyebrow and Gavin downs the rest of his drink in one hearty swig, putting the empty glass down on the countertop, “Another, please. Neat.”

Connor knows where this is headed and walks to the other end of the bar, grabbing Kat by the elbow and delivering her to where the others are sitting.  Once settled, he addresses the group, “Since it appears I am the one purchasing drinks, may I interest any of you in another?” It is his way of apologizing for grabbing Kat so abruptly.  He simply didn’t want to be there while Reed and Nine started – as Hank had called it – “ _Eye Fuckin’_ ”.  Chris, Tina and a few others nod and lift their glasses, happily buzzed.

Kat just finishes the last few sips of hers and hands Connor the glass, “Rum and Coke, again, please.  First, though… I mean… I’ve only been at the DPD for two months, but Reed and Nine… have they always been so _intense_?”

“Yes,” Connor replies; simple and honest.  “You never really get used to it.  In my experience, the best course of action is just to ignore them and let them get it out of their system.” 

“Ain’t that the truth!” Tina comments, from behind Kat.

Connor just smiles and shakes his head.  There is no need to scan any of his companions.  He can clearly tell they’d enjoyed a few drinks, before he’d shown up.  Faces are flushed, eyes are twinkling in the dancefloor lighting.  He briefly wonders how many drinks were put on his tab – since Nine had only offered up the first round on him – but, then his gaze falls back on Kat’s face.

The light reflects off her eyes, catching his attention. Thankfully, Connor notices that the tight feeling in his chest isn’t as severe as the last time his own rose to meet them.

She is busy giggling at her co-worker’s antics, when those eyes lock with Connor’s.  He was watching her, smile still plastered on his face, when he notices heat rising into her cheeks.

For Kat, it had been the first time she had noticed him really _looking_ at her, especially with a pleasant expression.

“So… uhh… Are you going… er… did _you_ want something to drink?” She fumbles with her words, pushing some of her red locks behind her ear.  “It can go on _my_ tab,” she offers.

Connor watches her, his curiosity peaking, as he notices her biting the inside of her cheek.  He feels the same sting of guilt, “I… No, thank you.  I just have no interest in drinking, honestly.”  He notices a series of microscopic changes to her features, noting her disappointment.  She has more than enough drinking buddies tonight, so it must be from him turning down her offer – possibly, rejecting an olive branch.  Connor’s hand twitches slightly, as he fights the urge to rest his hand on her shoulder to comfort her.  Why he wants to, however, he isn’t quite sure of.

An unsteady hand presses into his shoulder, as he was about to open his mouth to speak – to say something, anything to ease the look on Kat’s face.  He looks behind him, to find Chris leaning precariously off the edge of his barstool.

“Hey! Tina, ya hear that? Came to an ANDROID FRIENDLY BAR, but neither of these wet blankets is drinking! HA!” Chris laughs heartily, nearly falling to the floor.  Now standing, he leans his back against the bar and squints at Connor, holding up his glass under the android’s nose, “It’s okay, Connor. You’re a better man than I am! Thanks for the drinks, though, buddy…”

He pats Connor’s shoulder twice, before the android takes his hand and guides him back to his bar stool.

An awkward silence falls between Connor and Kat, though a more eased expression has formed across her features.  She is quietly sipping her refreshed drink, the thrum of music pulsing through Connor as he leans against the bar to listen.  He isn’t sure how to pick up the conversation with the young woman, again.  The song ends, another taking its place – the beat picking up as the sun is setting outside.

“Woo! This song _is my jam!_ ” Chris shoves himself back off his stool, using Tina’s arm to steady himself.  Dragging her along with him, he waves for Kat and Connor to join them on the dancefloor.

_At least someone can be perfectly relaxed,_ Connor sighs to himself.

Kat throws her head back in laughter, before she sets her glass down and yells down the bar, “Hey, Nine! You gonna leave me hanging again?” She gets up and heads over to where he is standing with Gavin, “You didn’t dance with me last time.” From the flustered expression on Gavin’s face and the way Nine has slowly moved his lips from his partner’s ear, she has clearly interrupted something.  But, she doesn’t care; the beat of the song is reverberating around them all and she’s had a few drinks.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you again,” Nine lets out a small chuckle, “Gavin always get so… irritable… at the idea of me dancing with someone else.” His eyes narrow, calculating and focused on his brother.  “However,” he continues, “I am more than sure that Connor would be happy to assist you.”

Connor gets up from his seat at the sound of his name.  He is getting ready to protest, when the smile on Kat’s face stops him.  Etiquette would dictate that he shouldn’t embarrass Kat in front of her peers, especially after he rejected her previous offer of a drink.  Besides, a small part of him just wants to feel the bass pulse through his wiring on the dancefloor.  He looks once at Nine, then to Kat, “Sure, lead the way.”

Kat’s smile is stunning, illuminated in the lights, as she turns towards the dancefloor and gestures for Connor to follow her.

Connor knows that Nine is probably grinning behind their backs, pleased with himself.  But, he is focused as he wades through the crowd of humans and androids to the center of the floor.  He is in a sea of bodies moving in tandem to the music.  The energy pouring off them is undeniably intoxicating.

Kat is already swaying along to the song, hips rolling with her arms above her head.  Her eyes lock onto Connor, who is standing stoically in front of her.  He is clearly at a loss for what to do.  “What’s wrong? Never danced before?” she chuckles.

“Not like this… everything I’ve done was… much slower, like box-steps,” he apologetically answers. “I’ve never needed to download any dancing software.”  Connor had asked Hank to teach him to dance himself, preferring to learn from his partner, rather than install a program.

“Here… I can show you,” Kat replies, stepping closer to him.  She takes both of his hands in her own as the next song starts up.  She moves his hands in tandem with her swaying, guiding him side to side.

Connor looks a bit puzzled, standing still as she moves his arms, “This?”

“Not quite,” she laughs softy, shaking her head, “Loosen up a bit. Let your hips move in time the beat, bounce your feet a little.”  She moves with him again, keeping her hold on his hands.  This time, Connor attempts to mimic the movement of her hips and legs.  She grins at him, letting herself fall more deeply into the beat.

Connor notices one of his arms is raised, as Kat spins herself underneath it, moving in a bit closer as she continues dancing.  He feels more at ease as they keep moving, feeding off the energy from the dancers.  The bass thrums through every component, the heat from the human bodies envelops him in warmth.

Connor has missed this warmth.

“There! You’ve got it, just feel the music,” Kat’s body moves more fluidly now that Connor is following her lead.  She releases his hand but stays within almost-touching distance.  Her arms raise above her head once more, then fall again as she glides her fingertips through her hair and down the curves of her body.

Each song bleeds hypnotically into the next as Connor moves his body in time with hers, losing track of time.  He can feel the heat radiating off her, watching as a single bead of sweat rolls enticingly down the side of her neck before disappearing into the collar of her shirt.  A hint of blue creeps over his cheeks, a long-forgotten warmth spreading through his chest.

His mouth slowly fills with the colorless thirium-based saliva, as the thought of chasing that bead of sweat with his tongue enters his mind.  He swallows hard, trying to focus his gaze on the bodies around them.

His eyes find a human and android pair.  The female android has her back and hips pressed firmly against the human man, small movements pressing her buttocks into the man’s groin.  It’s effective, Connor notices, as the man’s lips are parted – a small groan escaping. They appear to be in their own little world.

Continuing to study them, he watches as she takes the man’s hands and pulls them around her, running his hands up her thighs to perch them on her hips.

A sharp gasp escapes Connor’s throat as he feels one of Kat’s hips brushing against his thigh.  She has spun around again, unaware of how close they had been.  Her back is facing him, and Connor feels the harsh pang of _want_ deep in his circuits.  He wants to place his hands firmly on her hips, pull her into him, feel her warm body pressing against his – heating the synthetic skin on his thighs.

_It's been so long_ , Connor thinks, hands twitching with the desire to touch this human.  He feels the desire pooling deep within him, his thirium pump redirecting the fluid to his groin.  He doesn’t get any prompts on his HUD anymore.  Long ago, he disabled the notification that would ask him if he wanted to redirect the flow – he hadn’t needed it once Hank and he were regularly intimate, choosing to let it be spontaneous – and he had never considered turning the alerts back on.

Panic overwhelms him, as his shaft slowly grows hard with the thoughts that had run through his processors. Thoughts caused by Kat’s warm body, pulsing so close to him.

“I’m… I’m sorry, it’s much later than I realized. I need to go,” Connor backs away, turning before he can see Kat’s expression.  He pushes through the crowd, with purpose, LED spinning yellow rapidly as he sends a message to the android bartender.  He pays the tab, this way, as he breaks through the crowd and rushes towards the exit.  The blue blush on his face is fading, but his cock is still hard.

_Fuck_ , he thinks as Nine’s gaze lingers on him for a moment.  He knows his brother will follow him out.

“Connor,” Nine’s voice calls out.  The door to the bar swings closed behind them.

Anger and guilt replace Connor’s panic as he pivots to face Nine, “I can’t… I just… I need to get home.”

Nine regards his brother carefully for a few moments.  He doesn’t need to scan Connor to understand what has happened.  The hint of blush is still visible on his cheeks and his simulated breaths are coming out much faster than is necessary.  The tense way he is standing.  Yes, Nine knows the sensation of desire all too well.  He simply replies, “I understand.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Connor tells Nine, turning back towards the street to find his car.

“You know… to desire is to be human… to be alive,” Nine’s voice reaches Connor, causing him to pause in his tracks.  Nine continues, “You showed me how to accept it.  Gavin taught me how to embrace it.  Maybe, it’s time you tried to embrace it again, too.”  The larger android heads back into the bar, not bothering to wait for a reply.

A heavy sigh escapes Connor as Nine’s words play through his head.  He pulls his keys from his pocket and finds the Oldsmobile, ready to head back to Markus’.

 

* * *

 

Once back at Markus’ house, Connor makes his way up to his temporary bedroom.  It was Carl’s old bedroom.  Markus had been using it until Connor showed up, when he decided to join Simon in the studio.  As for North, she had her own small guesthouse off the main living area, joined to the house by a small stone path.

The other three are all lounging in the living room, as he rushes up the stairs in the atrium.  He sends them all a message letting them know he is home but wants to relax and process everything from the evening.

They all accept it easily enough.  Fresco emerges and follow him up the steps, joining him in the room where he takes his familiar spot at the foot of the bed.  Once inside, Connor shuts the door firmly behind him, stripping out of his work clothes and heading to the shower.  He makes sure the water is cool.

Resting his head against the cold tile of the shower wall, Connor closes his eyes tightly, letting the water wash over him.  The flood of emotions he felt on the dancefloor rush through him, again.  Panic forms in his belly, as he senses the familiar tingle at the base of his spine.  It is quickly chased away by a flood of hot anger.  Slamming his hand against the hard ceramic, his fist clenches tightly as he tries to channel his focus on the sensation of the water running over his back.

He forces himself to stay that way for a while, before the anger melts away and is replaced by the now all-too-common pang of guilt.  He can feel tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall.

He has cried enough in the past year to be sick of the choking feeling of crying. Turning towards the faucet, he moves the handle towards the hot setting.  The warm sensation swathes him as the droplets stream down his neck and arms.  He allows his hand to follow a trail of water down his chest, over his stomach and in between his legs.

His hands run over his synthetic skin softly, as he is once again gripped with desire.  Letting out a small, audible gasp, he slowly caresses his cock, becoming hard again.  He braces his free hand against the wall.

It's been a long time since he has felt such a strong surge of desire, the need for the embrace of a warm body.  His eyes close as he wraps his hand around himself, the hot water streaming over him, as steam fills the shower.  He slowly strokes down his shaft, to the base, then up again. Once. Twice. On the third downward stroke, he can no longer hold back the moan.

_“Hank…”_

_~*~_


	3. UPDATE

I know I have no updated this in some time and there are people interested in reading it. I do not wish to leave anyone hanging so I am currently putting this work on hiatus until further notice. I have the idea laid out as to what I wish to do with it, but I have not been able to tear my focus away from wanting to work on another story. I do intend to come back to this and finish it, I just need some time to get these other ideas out of my head.

Thank you! And I apologize to everyone again who's been waiting on an update.


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